


we should just kiss like real people do

by susieboo



Category: The Politician (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Ghosts, M/M, One Shot, Or hallucinations, You decide!, payton is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susieboo/pseuds/susieboo
Summary: Payton and River talk.[Oneshot. Set in between the first two seasons.]
Relationships: River Barkley/Payton Hobart
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	we should just kiss like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> What up, I just bingewatched all of "The Politician" in two weeks and now I am fucking trash for these two. Also Ryan Murphy is a coward.
> 
> Trigger warning for alcoholism and suicide mention.

Sometimes, if he's alone in his dorm room and he's had enough to drink and the room is dark enough, Payton can close his eyes and burrow under his blankets and pretend he's back home. It feels so stupid and childish, but he can't help it. Humans go back to what is familiar when they're in distress. And, whether he'll admit it or not, Payton is in distress.

He can't quite put a pinpoint on it. Did it begin when he had to resign as class president? When he found out he didn't really win? When River shot himself?

Honestly, all the trouble probably started long before that. Maybe his fate was sealed the day his birth mother signed away her parental rights. (Not that he blames her - if anything, he wants to thank her for having enough compassion to give up a child she couldn't adequately care for, for giving him a fighting chance.) Maybe just being a Hobart was enough to doom him. It'd be nice if there was some family curse he could blame this on, but even as he thinks it, he knows that it isn't true.

No, his dysfunctions are purely his own.

He doesn't just imagine he's back in his childhood bedroom. He remembers the days when things seemed simple, when the map he'd made of his life and future seemed perfectly logical. He remembers when he was preparing to apply for Harvard, and felt like the best was yet to come.

He remembers River.

Oh, God, does he remember River. Honestly, he's been living in his mind rent-free for... well, for as long as he's known him, but it wasn't until after he died that he seems to have permanently set up camp there.

He hasn't told anyone else he still sees him sometimes. They'd just feel sorry for him.

And if they knew he _talked_ to him...

"Can I sit?" a familiar voice asks.

When Payton opens his eyes, there he is. River Barkley is standing in the doorway, dressed in white, smiling and looking like a goddamn angel. Not that Payton has ever really believed in that sort of thing.

_This isn't real. He's not there. This is just an extension of your mind._

"If I said no, would it matter?" he asks.

River chuckles, and draws closer. His footsteps make no sound, and the mattress doesn't move or shift at all when he sits down on the edge next to him. Even in the darkness, his eyes are the brightest, purest blue. The sort of color you could drown in.

He doesn't try and touch him, for which he is both grateful and angry.

"Normally, I only show up when you need me for something," River says softly.

He doesn't say what he wants to say, which is, _I always need you_. Instead, he says, "I guess I'm fickle like that."

At that, River lays down on his side, so they're facing each other in the darkness. They're maybe two inches apart by now, but he still doesn't touch him. On pure instinct, Payton closes his eyes, tries not to remember the last time they were so close.

_This isn't real. Remember that. This isn't real._

"What do you need, Payton?"

He lets out a short sigh and opens his eyes, forcing himself to look at him. All at once, he remembers a thousand moments - the first time River kissed him - his stupid grin whenever Payton made some pompous and short-sighted remark - his encouraging nod as he tutored him - his beautiful brain splattering on the wall behind him as the bullet entered his skull - the feeling of his lips against his neck - their argument when he found out he was running for president - the blood splattering everywhere - his fingers unbuttoning his shirt - the first time he saw him after he died.

All of that and more, flashing through his memories, just as vivid as the first time.

"I don't know what I need," he finally says.

"You can't keep running in circles like this. You'll drive yourself nuts."

"Said the dead man to the alcoholic."

River lets out a snort, but he's still smiling. He's always smiling. How could he look so happy, as if Payton - and everyone - didn't know how his short life met its end?

"Why did you leave, River?" he asks, but it isn't exactly what he means, because what he wants to ask is, _Why did you leave **me**?_

He's quiet for a minute, and just for a split second, Payton thinks he sees tears in his eyes.

"Is there any answer I could give that would satisfy you?" he asks.

"No," he admits. Because there isn't. He must have tried to rationalize it, understand what had happened a thousand times, but no conclusion he came to seemed to properly account for the fact that River Barkley was no longer among the living.

"This isn't really about me, anyway. You said it yourself - I'm just an extension of your mind trying to figure stuff out."

There, Payton has to disagree. Of course this is about River. How could it not be? He'd been the heart and soul of everything Payton had done in that stupid election. Some days, mostly the really bad ones, he feels like River _is_ his heart and soul. And he knows it wasn't just him that was devastated by his loss. Everyone had spiraled. Everyone.

It's like losing him had set the world off-balance.

And he doesn't have to say so, because River already knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Just tell me what to do," he says softly, feeling pathetic even as he says it. "Everything's fucked-up now. I don't know what to do. Just tell me. You always had the answers."

"If that were true," River says, "I'd still be alive."

Payton doesn't respond to that, because he knows he's right. River doesn't have all the answers, and he never did. He was just a kid. Broken, lonely, afraid. Like him.

If he'd only seen that earlier, maybe he'd really be here with him. Maybe he wouldn't just have to imagine it.

"Maybe I should see a shrink," he says, half to himself.

"Why haven't you?"

"I don't know." It's an honest answer. "Maybe because then I'll have to talk to someone about all of this. Someone besides you. Or me, I guess, since this is basically just talking to myself." He sighs softly. "Maybe because then I'll stop seeing you."

River looks like he's caught between smiling and sobbing. "I don't mean to hold you back."

"That's not what I meant. Besides, I do it just fine on my own."

"Do you like seeing me?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." He inches even closer to him, and now, they're nearly in each other's arms again. "I miss you. I miss you so much. And I know this isn't really the same as you still being here, but... it's better than nothing. Even if it's probably a symptom of... I don't know, PTSD? Or something."

"Do you want me to go?"

The question takes Payton off-guard. Maybe because it's been a long time since he considered what he wanted, maybe because he's not sure if this is River asking or him asking himself. But either way, his answer - his honest answer - is obvious, and for once in his life, he feels no need to lie.

"No."

River smiles, and a hand comes up to touch his face. If he closes his eyes, he can actually feel it. It's times like this when he thinks, if only for a few passing seconds, that maybe he's not going crazy, or maybe this isn't just his brain trying (and failing) to process a loss. Maybe he's here. Maybe he's still with him.

"Okay," River says. "Then I won't."


End file.
